We are at the cake expert stage of home-buying, meaning we've signed all of our paperwork (I think?) and just have to wander around what will hopefully soon be our house with some strangers and cross our fingers that nothing is terribly wrong. I think I'm still wrapping my brain around the house thing because I found out about the house the same day I found out about Ripley, so my emotions were like a rollercoaster from Hell on crack WHATEVER THAT MEANS. I don't think it will feel real until we have the keys. That said, I have already started thinking about decorating and I don't even like decorating that much WHO AM I.
I sort of can't believe anyone sold us a house. I guess I've gotten really good at this grown-up ruse I've been pulling for the last ten years because apparently I look trustworthy. I don't FEEL trustworthy, though. I mean, this was happening while we waited for the realtor to gather our final paperwork:
Can you believe we were allowed to buy a house? I mean, seriously. Most of the time I feel like I'm pretending to be a grown up. Like, I don't really feel all that different now than I did ten years ago, so it's very disconcerting to me that I'm married and my friends are starting to have babies and I JUST BOUGHT A HOUSE. I don't feel old enough to do those things. I don't feel almost 30 but, I don't know, maybe I do, because who knows what almost 30 is supposed to feel like?
My mom said something on Saturday, when we got home from the vet and were sitting around moping, trying not to look at the dog toys littering the carpet. She said, "Can I be done being a grown up now? I don't like it anymore," and you guys, it was like the floor fell out from underneath me because I realized I'll probably feel like this forever. Like I'm pretending or pulling the world's longest con, hoodwinking the world into thinking I know what I'm doing.